Why Uncle is in the Closet
by highertaxes
Summary: Caramon and Raistlin go on an adventure. But Raistlin is not the same. You might say he is a little less lively than usual... "SLOTH!"
1. SLOTH!

Why Uncle is in the Closet

_Based off an idea from Tracy Hickman's "Godzillalance"_

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The roads outside Solace were dry in the sun. The green leaves of the vallenwoods rustled in a spring breeze and left patterns upon the street. Perfect conditions to go out, or so Caramon believed.

Raistlin Majere had been unwillingly pulled from his studies by his elder twin who wanted him to join him for a walk. For his health, Caramon had said. Caramon had not, of course, counted on the dust from the road that his frailer twin was now practically suffocating on.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it Raist?" Caramon stated, stepping gaily.

Raistlin coughed.

"Sure is! I bet you're so glad to be outta the house!"

Caramon managed to, somehow, not notice two blazing golden eyes regarding him with hate.

Humming to himself, Caramon eyed his brother worriedly. Raistlin just hadn't been the same since his test, beyond physical appearance. He had tried endlessly to cheer him up to no avail. But maybe today...

"Raist?" Caramon began coyly, giving Raistlin a sidelong glance.

"What?" Raistlin snapped.

Caramon grinned, looked around, and then......

"SLOTH!"

He threw himself onto Raistlin, smashing them both to the ground. Through his glee, he failed to notice the cracking of many bones beneath his heavy body.

"Heehee! Whee! That was fun, huh Raist?" Caramon laughed. A slender golden hand forced itself out from under him, scraping at the road. Laughing again, Caramon rolled off his twin.

Had Caramon been a healer, he probably would have noticed that Raistlin had a broken leg, dislocated shoulder blade, three broken ribs, all puncturing his lungs, and severe internal bleeding.

"Raist?"

Raistlin gave a long, feeble wheeze then was silent. It was the last breath of Raistlin Majere.

"Oh shit!" Caramon scooped up his brother, who was limp as a rag doll, and ran to the healer as fast as he could.


	2. The Examination

Why Uncle is in the Closet: Chapter II

Weird Meggin sat in her rocking chair, staring at the opposite wall. She was trying to figure out a way to move the curtain without actually touching it.

"I can do it, I know I can do it..." she muttered to herself, forcing all of her will towards the curtain.

Weird Meggin frowned in concentration when a sudden banging sounded from her front door. She jumped from her seat in startlement, then back again as her rocking chair fell back once more. Grumbling, she got up a little slower and wobbled to the door. She drew it open and glowered at Caramon, who stood panting on her doorstep. Over his shoulder he had slung Raistlin like a sack of potatoes. 

"Well, what is it?" she snarled in annoyance.

Caramon took in a few large breaths, then managed to gasp out, "Raistlin fell!"

The old crone took one look at the limp, red form of Raistlin, and waved Caramon inside. After clearing the table, she motioned Caramon to put Raistlin on it. The big warrior lay his twin gently upon the wooden surface. It did not take long for Meggin to make her final assessment. One casual glance, actually.

"He's dead."

Caramon stared at her a moment, a passive expression on his face. When he did not move after several minutes, she eyed him critically. She expected him to be upset (hell, she was a bit upset herself, she had liked the little bugger), but a response of some kind would have been helpful.

"No he's not..." Caramon began slowly, mostly to himself.

Weird Meggin sighed. Denial was expected, but she would have to break it to him. She knew the young man was very attached to his brother and would not move on very easily.

"Boy, I know it is difficult to face, but your brother has moved on to the next world. See?" she explained, lifting Raistlin's cold arm and letting it drop back to the table lifelessly. "You're just going to have to accept it."

"No...he's tired..." murmured Caramon, still staring at his brother, a look of terror frozen on his golden features.

"He's dead."

"No, he just fell..."

"Looks like he's been crushed to me." 

"...Under a wagon...?"

"Riiight..." 

"You're wrong!" the big man exploded, pointing an accusing finger at her, "What do _you_ know!? You're...you're just _weird_! With a wolf on your doorstep!"

"The wolf is dead, boy."

"No he's not!" Caramon burst into tears; he'd had enough. He quickly snatched up his brother and headed toward the door. 

"He's just sick! The _mages_ did this to him!" he continued, glaring at the old woman over his shoulder. "C'mon Raist, let's go! We don't need her!" And he slammed the door behind him.

Weird Meggin shook her head. She'd miss the Majere lad, but it looked like there wasn't going to be a funeral anytime soon. But for now, she had more important things in mind.

Settling back into her rocking chair she returned to concentrating on the curtain. When it suddenly moved! She leapt to her feet and cried in triumph:

"I've done it!"

Until she noticed it was merely the breeze left from the shutting door that had stirred it. She fell back into her chair, moaning.

_Darkkender: __"sloth" is something I picked up at camp, invented by the boys. You creep up to a person, make like a sloth, and then drape on them with all your weight, and drag them down with you. Caramon took it a step further and apparently tackled poor Raistlin._

_Pineapplelint: Yes, we know._

_RoguesHeart: Yes, we had to break Raistlin. Don't worry, he's still a major character in the story XD_

_Thanks for the reviews._


End file.
